


May 19th, 2005

by Imonagoodmixture



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Petetrick - Freeform, Ryden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imonagoodmixture/pseuds/Imonagoodmixture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick stood in the door frame of the bathroom watching in total horror as Pete stood in front of the mirror slapping his face and pulling at his lower eyelids, doing anything really to the skin of his face to prove to himself he was hallucinating. </p><p>"Patrick... What year is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Petetrick. Side ryden later.<br/>BIG TIME TRAVEL AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: FAKE AS HELL. THIS FIC IS FAKE AS HELL. THIS FIC NEVER HAPPENED. NO OWNERSHIP HERE.

An adventure through time begins with two unwilling participants...

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Pete demanded.

Patrick had jumped back from him upon his eyes opening that morning, nearly falling off the bed and giving himself a concussion on the nightstand.

“Go look in the fucking mirror!” 

“What?!”

“Look in the fucking mirror! I swear to fuck Pete!”

Okay.

“Is something wrong with my face? Babe. I know I’m not exactly fabulous in the morning but-”

“Just look in the fucking mirror Pete!”

Okay. There was definitely something wrong if Patrick was cursing like this. Pete wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know what it was.

“Um.” Pete said hesitantly. “Okay.” He forced himself out of bed, noticing for the first time that this was not his bedroom. It almost looked like it was one of his old houses. Like he was back in Chicago instead of LA. 

But that wasn’t possible.

He lived out in LA.

It wasn’t possible for him to be in Chicago and certainly not in a house he had owned eleven years ago.

Right?

Soon after Pete disappeared to find a mirror, Patrick heard slapping noises when he followed when he was able to make himself stand up. He hadn’t even bothered to let himself register completely that this was definitely Pete’s old house in Chicago and not the one Pete currently lived in out in Los Angeles. He couldn’t deal with Pete’s appearance and that too at the moment.

Patrick stood in the door frame of the bathroom watching in total horror as Pete stood in front of the mirror slapping his face and pulling at his lower eyelids, doing anything really to the skin of his face to prove to himself he was hallucinating or dreaming. 

“I see your problem.” Pete told Patrick with a weak voice when he saw Patrick in the corner of his eye.

“Trick,” He said after a long moment of silence. “Am I on drugs? Did I do LSD or something last night?”

“Pete. I was with you last night. I didn’t do drugs. Do you really think I let you do fucking LSD or meth?!”

Pete slapped himself again, harder than before. He didn't even bother to argue that it wouldn't really have mattered if Patrick would have let him, that he had done enough stupid shit in the past. He just hoped he had grown out of an urge to attempt to do hard drugs.

The reflection in the mirror didn’t change. Pete was looking at himself. It was his face.

But he wasn’t thirty-seven anymore.

He was twenty-five.

“Patrick... What year is it?”

“Pete-“ Patrick didn't exactly want to find out.

“Go get my phone and tell me what fucking year it is!”

“I don’t even know where it would be-“

“Patrick. You practically lived here in 2005. You know where I would put my phone. Go fucking find out what year it is!”

"Go!" Pete snapped when Patrick continued not to move and to stand there.

"Wait-"

"Fucking get my phone!"

"Would you shut the fuck up Pete?! Am I still thirty-two?!" Patrick made his way over to the sink, dreading looking the mirror. "Or did you do something and fuck me up t-"

"Patrick. Get my fucking phone for fuck's sake! You're still you! You're still thirty-two! It's me that's fucked up!"

Patrick stared into the glass. Short dishwater blonde hair. Blue eyes. He wasn't as bony as he had been during Soul Punk-which he had a bad feeling he technically hadn't even written yet-but he still saw the effects of a significant amount of weight loss so that confirmed without a doubt that he was still thirty-two year old Patrick and not in his twenty-one year old body.

 

 

 

"It was in a fucking hoodie. Fuck you Pete." Patrick stood up from the floor where he had just fished a bulky sidekick out from the pocket of a black sweatshirt as Pete entered the bedroom.

Pete ignored Patrick. "I'm gonna sit down." He lowered himself to the ground by the bed and leaned back against the bedframe. He held his hand out for the sidekick. "Give it to me."

Patrick put the cell phone in Pete's waiting palm and joined him on the carpet. "What did you do Pete?" He groaned, fully taking Pete's hair in for the first time. It was the emo hair that Pete hadn't had since he had shaved it off on stage at Madison Square Garden years ago. (Or years into the future or whatever the hell was correct to say. Proper time travel vernacular wasn't exactly at the forefront of Patrick's mind right now.) It was jet black and it wasn't straightened and flattened obviously, but Patrick could tell by the shape it was cut into that it was the emo hair. Contrary to what a lot of people probably thought, Pete didn't wake up with straightened hair or have straightened hair twenty-four seven.  
Pete was most certainly twenty-five again.

The sidekick chimed to life.

The date on the screen read:

Thursday May 19, 2005.


	2. One

1

“So you wanna do something?” Pete smiled suggestively, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom, just out of the shower and half dressed, his hair straightened and styled properly. “I’m twenty-five again.”

“You are such a one track mind. God Pete. And you actually straightened your hair?”

“Yeah. The fuck else would I do with it-” 

“Don’t you think you’re embracing this fucked-upness a little too quickly?”

“Come on Trick. I’m in a twenty-five year old’s body. What else are we gonna do?”

“Figure out how the hell to get back to twenty fucking sixteen.”

“Duh. But that’s obviously not happening right this second. I just spent like an hour in the shower and straightening my hair-” 

“You just like looking at yourself in the mirror. I’ve fucking caught you checking yourself out several times.”

Pete ignored Patrick’s comment, railroading over him. “I still have no fucking idea how this happened. Besides, I know you wanna ruin my twenty-five year old ass. I know you. And I know the real you. You’re not the gentlemanly angel everybody thinks you are.”

Patrick really kind of did want to “ruin Pete’s twenty-five year old ass” now that Pete had brought it up but he was most definitely more concerned with trying to get back to the time in which he and Pete belonged. Then again though, on the other hand, he was also still a warm blooded male.

He shut his eyes, his head falling back. He exasperatedly blew out air. “Good gracious. Lord, give me strength.”

Pete just laughed. It was the stupidly attractive smug laugh of his that he laughed when he knew he had Patrick. It was the laugh that Patrick knew logically should have just been annoying. And he would have found it annoying if it were anyone else but the boyfriend laughing it. “I thought so Trick. Because aside from the regrettable hair, I am fucking glorious.”

“You are so annoying. Have I ever told you how annoying you are Pete?”

“Yep.”

“Bed. Now. Before I change my mind.”

 

 

 

“Patrick.” Pete had passed out with his back turned to Patrick an hour prior after they had screwed around and was only awake now because the text alert on his cell phone was going off and he was leaning over the end table to get it. “Why the fuck are you texting me? I am literally in the same room, I’m literally in the same bed, and you always bitch at me when I do that to you-“

“I’m not. I don’t have a phone.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Pete shoved his sidekick-God he couldn’t believe he ever had a sidekick-in Patrick’s face, smiling stupidly. There were a couple new messages from Patrick, sure enough.

Patrick paled. What the hell was going on? Was it possible that twenty-one year old Patrick was here with them? It would explain Patrick’s lack of anything except what he had slept in the night before. Wouldn’t that have been a time paradox though? “That’s not me. I swear.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna call your phone and you’re never gonna complain about me texting you when we’re in the same room again.” Pete thumbed around in his contacts for a minute and then dialed Patrick’s number when he found it. The ringing noise sounded from Pete’s phone but no other ringing joined it.

The room remained quiet.

“You silenced it, didn’t you?”

“Pete. I don’t have a phone.” Patrick insisted.

“Sure you don-”

“Dude, you didn’t have to call me.” Patrick’s voice resounded from the speakers of Pete’s sidekick.

“What the fuck?” Pete barely got the words out of his mouth as he stared disbelievingly at Patrick.

“I fucking told you.” Patrick’s face was kind of washed out now. There was another younger version of him here with them.

“Where are you?” Pete tried to keep his voice at a normal tone as he responded to phone Patrick.

“What?”

“Are you at home?”

“Where else would I be?”

Pete rolled his eyes, giving his boyfriend a pointed look. He covered the mouth piece of the phone. “I don’t have time for your attitude Trick.”

Patrick narrowed his blue eyes back at Pete. “It’s not my attitude.”

Pete rolled his eyes again and went back to talking to the other Patrick. “I’m coming over there.”

“What? Why?”

“For shit’s sake, I’ll be there in like a half hour. You’re gonna want to see this Patrick.”

“Pete, what the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ll see in thirty minutes.”

“Pete-”

“I’ll be there in thirty.” Pete hung up.

“We need to get dressed.” Pete declared. “I hope he left shit over here.”

“If he didn’t I’ll just have to wear something of yours. I’ve lost a lot of weight and you’re only like an inch taller than me. I'll make it work.”

 

 

 

“Damn. I haven’t worn jeans this tight in years.” Pete was bending and jumping around awkwardly, trying to get some give in the dark denim he had struggled into. “I shouldn’t have taken them off earlier.”

“You wear tight jeans all the time. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Not this tight!”

“Whatever.” Patrick was fighting with his own pants which were actually borrowed from Pete. “I’ve never worn pants this tight! What the hell Pete! How do you even get these on?” Sure Patrick had his share of experience with skinny jeans but Pete didn’t wear normal skinny jeans. Pete wore skinny jeans that were practically spray painted on to his body.

“With a lot of patience.”

“Duh. Now can you tell me something useful, please?”

“Roll back the pattitude.”

“Pete. I cannot go around pants-less. Okay. Tell me how the fuck to get into these.”

“Jump.”

“Pete.”

“I’m serious. Jump and pull up on them at the same time. It’ll take a few minutes but you’ll get them on. And hey Patrick. What if you were trying to get into Ryan’s pants?”

“God.” Patrick snorted. “I couldn’t get one arm into Ryan’s pants. He’s a twig.”

“I’m gonna straighten my hair again.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s already like half straightened and I’ll look stupid as hell if I leave it that way. And don’t even say shit about my hair Trick. I know you’re dying to.”

 

 

 

“Are you drunk?” Twenty-one year old Patrick Stump looked blankly at Pete who had just told him a long winded explanation of “I’m me but I’m not me. I am actually me but from the year twenty-sixteen but I'm in my twenty-five year old body, you know? And this is the future you.” from his front door.

“No I’m not fucking drunk.”

“So I’m supposed to believe you’re psychic or whatever bullshit you’re trying to sell me? Is he drunk?” He ignored Pete and directed the question at Patrick this time.

“He’s not drunk.”

“Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“I’m you. From twenty-sixteen.”

“You’re both fucking on drugs. I’m not interested in whatever you’re taking.”

“May 9th, 1997.” Thirty-two year old Patrick stated simply.

“What?!”

“May 9th, 1997.” Older Patrick repeated. “Don’t fucking act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“How do you know about that? I’ve never told anyone about that… Shit… What the fuck?!”

“Because I’m you. And you know it. Now let us the fuck in.” Older Patrick ordered.

Patrick’s stunned to the bone younger self moved aside.

 

 

“So I’m dating Pete in twenty-sixteen?” Patrick One asked for the second time. They were all sitting around his living room, the two Patricks having been getting acquainted with each other for ten long minutes.

“Yes you are. You’ll have been dating me for six years at that point. Aren’t you lucky? I am a stud.”

“God. Good to know some things never change.” Patrick One scoffed sarcastically. “And ew. I love you Pete. But I’m not in love with you. If that makes sense.” He said but on the inside, he didn’t mind the information. He had always thought Pete was good looking and Pete was an extremely good friend. He didn’t expect anything to ever happen between them though and he was totally okay with that. It was, in a way, a pleasant surprise. But he wasn’t about to admit it and make Pete’s head swell even bigger than it already was.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. If it helps you sleep at night.” Patrick Two smirked, knowing everything that was going on in his younger self’s head and all of his feelings toward Pete because he had lived it and them.

Pete snickered.

Patrick One blushed. Really hard.

“Oh my God. I almost forgot how easy it was to make you blush Trick.” Pete’s grin at his thirty-two year old boyfriend was massive. “You’ve gotten so much harder to do that to. Babe, you were so cute.”

“I’ve gotten used to your bullshit Pete.”

“You have a girlfriend Pete. Remember?” Younger Patrick interrupted the two.

“Don’t you think you’re grasping for straws there?” Older Patrick asked.

Younger Patrick grew even more flustered.

Pete laughed his stupid, seductive laugh-the same one that had gotten Pete what he wanted out of his boyfriend earlier-and it was clear by Patrick One’s face that he wanted to flee the house. “You don’t have to be so embarrassed, ya know. You think I’m good looking and possibly boyfriend material. It’s okay. I know I’m good looking.”

“Gross.” Patrick One tried badly to keep up his act.

“I’m not gonna force you to date me. I have a girlfriend, remember?” Pete teased. “Even though you kind of already are dating me.” He pointed to his current Patrick, the one that was sitting next to him. "You probably won't even remember any of this once we figure out how to get back to twenty-sixteen. Time travel laws and all that shit ya know. And you want to know what’s gross?”

Pete had that glint in his eyes.

“God.” Both Patricks complained at the same time, sensing Pete's usual brand of bullshit coming on as they had the same, identical eye rolling reaction.

“Okay that was freakish.” Pete looked at from one Patrick to the other. “But seriously, you want to know what’s gross?”

“Not really.” Patrick One answered.

“I agree.” Patrick Two seconded.

“Chill.” Pete said, turning to his boyfriend. “I’m not actually gonna do anything gross. Just this.” He leaned forward and kissed him. Patrick, surprised, put an arm around Pete and kissed back, taking over the kiss.

They both heard younger Patrick groan an exasperated “Why?” in the background.

Pete and Patrick pulled apart a solid minute later and Pete started laughing again when he saw the look on younger Patrick’s face.

“Babe.” Pete grinned at his boyfriend. “You have got to get involved in my bullshit more often. It’s so much fun when you get involved.”

“How did you even get here?” Patrick One desperately tried to get them on to something else. “And where is my Pete?”

“I am your Pete. I’m just older and in my twenty-five year old body.”

"You know what the fuck I mean.”

“Pattitude. But anyway, we don’t know. I figured since you and the boyfriend, future you, are such nerds, you both could figure it out.”


	3. Not an update. Just fanart from google that fit the fic.

Okay this is not a new update but I was googling Petetrick fanart and I found these two things and I don't know, they really kind of fit this dumb fic.  
I DID NOT MAKE THESE. JUST FOUND EM ON GOOGLE. (Will take them down if the artists tell me to.)

http://img03.deviantart.net/47bb/i/2013/143/e/8/my_love_for_you_was_bulletproof____by_sandmanpeterick-d66alt8.jpg 

(Ya know, Pete being Pete and being full of himself now that he's twenty-five again.)

 

https://66.media.tumblr.com/4c510f326c0e8b7ea7fd074c1cc83534/tumblr_o6bi0qT8Yy1v2ussxo1_500.png

(The two Patricks meet.)


	4. Two

Two

 

“So it’s like fuckin’ Sliders or some shit?” Pete asked. He was sitting on the floor with the two Patricks. They had been crowded around the younger Patrick’s laptop for at least an hour and a half googling everything to do with time travel. They had sifted through an endless amount of nerd forums, legitimate physics websites, and even several conspiracy theorist websites. The conspiracy theorist sites were weird as hell, it went without saying. They came across one that was run by some yoga instructor in Myanmar or Cambodia or something that didn’t believe space actually existed and that everyone was being lied to by NASA.

“Nah man. Sliders was different dimensions. Alternate reality and shit. Not just time travel.” The older of the two Patricks answered. 

“Oh my God, I don’t want to go to alternate dimensions! Are you telling me we’re gonna go to alternate dimensions?! Time travel is fucked up enough-”

“Pete. Chill.” The other younger Patrick cut in. “I don’t think it’s like that. I think it’s more Quantum Leap.”

“But we’re not here to fix anything.” Pete countered. “That was the whole point of Quantum Leap.”

“Yeah, but you both have no idea how you even triggered the going back in time thing. And come on, you’re in your twenty-five year old body. He always landed in someone else's body. I think you’ll probably jump around in time for a while and you’ll eventually be spit back out where you belong.”

“But I don’t want to go to like 1857 or something!”

“I told you. I don’t think it’s like that.”

“Well how long do you think we’re stuck here?” Pete moved on to the next most important thing for them to figure out. “When do you think I get my body back?”

“I don’t know. Can’t be too long though. I would think the universe would want you guys back where you belong and not messing up the time stream.”

“Fuck, do you think we can mess up the time stream?”

“Probably not. Not what I meant. Think about it. This is technically the second time this is happening because it had to happen once in the future in twenty-sixteen, which is now technically your past, before it could happen to be able to send you guys here for it to be happening right now for you guys. It’s hard to explain. Short story is: if you could change the past by being in the past, you wouldn’t be here with me right now.”

“So what do we do?”

“You wait it out, I guess. Until you go back to your own time and I forget all of this.”

“Okay, how come Patrick hasn’t like disappeared? Isn’t that like a time travel law? That two of the same person can’t be in the same place at the same time?”

“Probably because he’s not the same age as me so technically he’s not the exact same as me. He’s thirty-two. I’m twenty-one.”

“Alright. So I have another important thing we need to talk about? What the hell do I call you because I can’t call you and the boyfriend Patrick. It would be really annoying after a while, constantly specifying which one of you I am talking to.”

A sly little gleam appeared in Pete’s eyes.

“Do I even want to know?” Younger Patrick complained upon seeing it.

“Yeah Pete, please don’t do something weird.” His boyfriend agreed.

“I’m gonna just call you Trick.”

“Why?” The twenty-one year old asked warily.

“Because it clearly annoys you. I remember it annoyed you. Or I could call you “not my boyfriend.” Your choice.”

“Why don’t you call him that? It clearly doesn’t bother me when I’m old.” It didn’t really bother him to begin with but it wasn’t something he was going to share with Pete. Sure the pet name was kind of annoying granted, but it was Pete so Patrick didn’t exactly mind putting up with it.

“And you can keep pretending it irritates you. I don’t mind. But just so you know, the boyfriend already told me how you feel about it when we first officially started having a thing at the end of 2008.” Pete slung an arm around the younger Patrick who was now Trick. “I know you secretly kind of like it. I know everything. That’s what being your boyfriend since like 2008 means.”

“I don’t think he put that together. That I’m him. And because I am dating you Pete, I’ve told you everything about how I feel and used to feel about you.” Patrick said. He then looked directly at his younger self. “So yeah, in case you hadn’t put that together, Pete knows how you feel because I told him how we feel.” 

“Get off.” Trick ordered Pete, voice sort of totally weak as he shrugged Pete’s arm off of him. He had turned completely magenta. “You suck.” He said accusingly to Patrick.

“I also told him that I didn’t mind it when he would hang all over me so, you know, the more you know.” Patrick tossed out casually.

“Okay. Roll back the pattitude Patrick. Bugging you is my job. And if you took that away from me, how sad would that be? Right Trick?”

“I hate both of you. Seriously.”

“Yeah. I love you too, Trick who is not my boyfriend.” Pete was laughing that stupid laugh of his again.

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna kill him if you keep that up.” Patrick intervened for his younger self. “I don’t want to die and never get back to twenty-sixteen because you’re a massive flirt Pete.”

“Shut up Patrick. You know you like it.”

“That’s the problem.” Patrick smirked. “Seriously, you should probably back off.”

“I hate you both so much.” Trick picked at the carpet, not looking at either of them, the blush on his face about ten shades darker.

“But Trick, I still love you though.” Pete kissed twenty-one year Patrick on the cheek before he knew what was happening.

“I am fucking out of here.” Trick got up off the floor, leaving the two of them.

“But babe, I’m sorry!” Pete called after him, flopping on his back and laughing his ass off. 

He ended up scooting across the floor when he could finally get himself together again, and staring up at Patrick, his head in Patrick’s lap. “I fucking love you.”


	5. Three

Three

 

“Fuck. When the hell did I get this accent again?” Pete said as he plugged his sidekick in to charge by the bed that night, whatever random thing he had been talking to Patrick about when they were first entering the house forgotten. It was pretty late. They had only just got back from hanging out with the other Patrick, who had eventually resurfaced from some far corner of his house that Pete had scared him off to with his flirting, and discussing such things as how they were going to be able to deal with having two Patricks around for the upcoming tour dates for From Under the Cork Tree and how the older Patrick was kind of going to be stuck using one of Pete's credit cards for money because he was dropped into 2005 with nothing at all. Oh, and Pete was going to have to get Patrick a fake id. “I've been hearing it all day. I sound like I’ve never left Chicago.”

“Pete. You’re twenty-five again. You really haven’t left Chicago. You had a massive accent when you were twenty-five. We all did. Haven’t you heard twenty-one year old me?”

“It’s weird though. Listen to me! I can't say Chicago! Chi-KAH-go. What the hell! Listen to me! Chi-KAH-go.”

“I am listening to you. You’ve been talking all day. You have the biggest mouth in the entire state of Illinois. And that's how you fucking say Chicago. It's not Shick-COG-O.”

“Patrick. I know. But it's so stressed. Listen to me! Chi-KAH-go.”

“Pete. Chill. It’s actually kind of cute.”

“You like my accent?” Pete began to smile. It was huge and obnoxious.

“Pete.”

“No, Patrick." Pete poked him in the shoulder. "You have a thing for my Chicago accent.”

“Why did I even say anything?” Patrick sighed.

“Does it turn you on?” Pete couldn’t even keep a straight face and began to laugh. He couldn’t imagine the accent he was speaking with turning anyone on.

“You are so annoying.” Patrick’s expression was far from the neutral one he wanted it to be.

“You tell me that and yet you’re about to start laughing.”

Patrick didn’t have a comeback, except for reaching across the bed and digging his fingertips into Pete’s ribs.

“What the fuck are you doi- Oh my God stop!!!”

“Who’s laughing Pete?”

“Stoppppp!!!” Pete was paralyzed in a cackling fit on the mattress.

“Seriously, who’s laughing? Not me.” Patrick was using both hands now.

“You suck! Stop!!!!”

“You tell me that and yet you’re laughing.” Patrick mocked, using what Pete had told him against him.

“Fuckin’ stoppp!!!!”

“You know you’re right Pete. I do think your accent is cute. And it’s even cuter right now.”

“I h-hope the n-next time we jump there’s two of m-meeee!!!” Pete had moved on from a state of paralysis to involuntarily flailing around. “See w-what we dooo to youuuu!!!! Stopppp!!!”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Patrick smirked, blue eyes dark. “Two of me at the same time. Would definitely shut you up.”

"Admit you've been obnoxious all day and maybe I'll stop." Patrick moved on to Pete's stomach, overpowering the weak attempts at pushing his hands off.

"You love meeee!!!"

"Love's got nothing to do with it."

"Fuck youuuuuu!!! Stopppp!!!!!"

"Hm. No. That isn't what I'm looking for. You know, that's your problem Pete. You don't know when to quit. But don't worry, we can do this all night long."

"Patrickkkkk!!!! Alrightttt I'm ob-obnoxiousssss!!!!"

“Fuckin’ stoppp!!! You’re gonna make meee fall off the beddd!!!! Fuckin’ stopppp!”

Pete actually was dangerously close to the edge of the mattress so that was really the only reason Patrick stopped what he was doing.

“I hate you.” Pete sucked in air. “I hate you so much. Fuck you.”

“You wanna talk to me like that and I might have to start again.”

"You better not because if you do, the second we jump and there are two of me I will get you so bad."

“Yeah okay. Can’t be any worse than your usual bullcrap.” The smile did not leave Patrick’s face.

“You’ll fuckin’ see Patrick.”

“Yeah okay. I’m going to bed. And you know, you should too while you can sleep at night. Your twenty-five year old ass has tour in like a day.”

“How am I gonna go to bed when you’ve almost knocked me off of it?”

Patrick rolled his eyes as Pete rearranged himself in an over exaggerated fashion, purposefully invading Patrick’s side.

“You know, just because you’re dumb enough to almost fall off the bed doesn’t mean you need to take over my side Pete.”

“This is my bed. You can leave.” Pete shot back.

“What did I say about being obnoxious?”

“What did I say about getting you back?”

“You are so annoying.”

“Aw. Thank you. That’s like the best compliment you can give me. And you’ve been telling me that all day. You’re really sweet.”

“Why do I even bother dating you Pete?”

“Because you fucking love me.” Pete turned on to his side to find the switch on the red lamp on the bedside table, no longer in Patrick’s space.

Patrick really did and “you’re so annoying” was more of a term of endearment for him than anything else. He pulled his boyfriend close to him.

“What happened to me not needing to take over your side of the bed just because I’m dumb enough to almost fall off the bed?”

“Shut the hell up. Maybe I like being close to you.”

 

 

 

“Okay. Someone please kill me now.” Pete said. He had just poked himself in the eye with an eyeliner pencil in front of the mirror in the dressing room in Richmond, Virginia.

“Pick me.” 

“Fuck off with the pattitude Trick.”

“Nah. Can’t.” Trick said from the gray couch in the corner, not even looking away from the screen of his cell phone. Pete had seen for the last couple of days while they had drove from Chicago to Virginia that he couldn’t. When they had first got on the bus and were figuring out what to do with Patrick after it had taken the three around an hour to convince Andy and Joe that Patrick was who he said he was and that Pete from twenty-sixteen but just in his twenty-five year old body, the two Patricks had snarked at each other for nearly ten minutes.

Trick had been messing with Patrick, obvious payback for he and Pete’s nonsense when they had first met, saying stuff like “Why are you even on the band bus? You don’t even have a real ID. I’m the main act.”

“You’re the main act? Yeah.” Patrick had scoffed. “You’re the warm-up act. I’m the main act.”

They had just kept going back and forth over really dumb stuff and it had been extremely amusing for Pete to watch, the battle of the pattitude. Trick had gotten the better of Patrick though after ten minutes of the dozens. Or so he thought.

“You know, I guess it’s all downhill for me after this if I can’t even think of a comeback when I am old.” Trick had declared smugly.

“Pete.” Patrick had said smoothly. “Come here.”

He had proceeded to kiss Pete again much to his younger self’s horror and after that it was Trick who was left speechless.

“You said something about me not having a comeback?” Patrick had asked. “How is that for a comeback?”

“Seriously Pete. It’s not our fault you can’t do eyeliner anymore.” Patrick said from the other couch.

“You know what Patrick, I would like to see you come over here and do eyeliner.”

“Nah.”

“Exactly. Because I am infinitely better.”

“Is that really a skill to be proud of?” Trick snorted.

“You’re just fuckin’ jealous of my mad make up skills.” Pete had recovered and was staring intently at the glass in front of him and dragging the pencil against his waterline.

“Yeah okay Pete.”

“You gonna do raccoon eyes tonight?” Patrick joined in again.

“Screw off. I don’t do raccoon eyes. God, you two are like a force for evil when you get the pattitude together.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“Duh. Of course it’s dramatic. It’s Pete.” Trick pointed out.

“I mean I guess it’s okay.” Pete continued. “I know you both have a thing for my stage make up. You’re only giving me attitude because you like me. You like my eyeliner Trick?”

“I know you do.” Pete grinned at the twenty-one year old singer in the mirror. Pete watched him flush pink. “And Patrick,” He switched targets, “what was that thing you once told me about my eyeliner? That I looked delicate when I wore it?”

“Oh what? Now you both have nothing to say? Not even that I’m annoying Patrick? Pete Wentz breaks hearts again. He’s so fucking hot in his eyeliner that both the ladies and the men can’t even think of anything to say when he talks to them.” 

Pete finished in the next few seconds with his stage make up and waltzed victoriously over to where the band’s stage clothes were hanging to get a jacket. 

“Are you serious right now?” Patrick demanded a couple minutes later, seemingly capable of speech again, while Pete was looking through stuff. Pete had started muttering Mindless Self Indulgence’s “Get It Up.”

“Gentlemen, screwing in moderation, screwing is such a bore.” Pete ignored him. “None of that time is wasted. I do that shit on tour! Oh ya! All right! Oh yea! All right! Patrick we could write it! It’s not written yet! We could write this song! Gerard’s wife would be pissed!” Pete started laughing as he finally decided what he wanted to wear and put it on.

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Okay. Be no fun. Fine. Come on Trick. We gotta go.”


	6. Four

Four

 

Back in the bus late that night, Patrick came across Pete with some dark gray garbage all over his face.

"What the hell is on your face?!"

"It's a charcoal mask, Patrick. Not herpes. Chill. I'll wash it off in a couple minutes."

"I thought you stopped with the face crap years ago."

"I did. But you might have noticed that I wear a shit ton of make-up right now. If I don't use it, my skin goes to hell."

"...Whatever."

"Why does this surprise you? It's Pete." The younger Patrick chimed in from somewhere farther up in the bus.

"Screw off Trick! I know our boyfriend!"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, okay! Trick who is not my boyfriend!" Pete called back and then things were silent. He and Patrick exchanged a look.

"I think you enjoy bugging him about it more than me." Pete broke into a massive grin.

"Maybe I do."

Pete's grin got even larger at that. "Well, all I am saying is it's really sweet of you to want to get involved in my bullshit."

"Nah. He's fine. Just gotta face up is all."

 

 

The jump happened the night of Pete's twenty-sixth birthday. They knew that because when they woke the next morning after Pete was back in his thirty-seven-year-old body and this time it was Patrick who was messed up. Of course, it was more the fact that instead of Patrick being passed out asleep next to him, it was himself, ten years younger and Patrick was nowhere to be found that tipped Pete off. Pete was in his old house in Los Angeles, the first one he ever bought out there. And the younger him was just staring at him, obviously trying to decide if this was real or not. 

Honestly, Pete was surprised he hadn't been attacked yet. Maybe he had aged well and still looked enough like himself to be recognized as someone who wasn't a home invader.

"Shit... maybe I do need to get stronger meds or something... Who the fuck are you?! Are you even real?! Am I dreaming?! Am I insane-"

Pete sat up. "Chill out. I'm real. I'm just you. From twenty-sixteen."

"I've definitely lost my damn mind." His younger self decided. "Perfect. I'm gonna get a seventy-two hour involuntary Baker act in the psych ward-"

"Will you chill out? You're not getting Baker acted. Nobody is getting Baker acted."

"I'm sitting here in my bedroom talking to someone who isn't here! Someone who claims to be me from the fuckin' future! Of course, I am getting Baker acted once somebody sees this happening! Oh, my God, they're gonna make me get Lithiu-"

"Pete. I'm real. You can take a photo me with your phone. Touch me." Pete hit his fist against his arm. "I'm solid. I'm you-" 

Pete watched the twenty-seven year old get out of bed and practically run for the hills out of the room. 

He sighed. This was not gonna be easy. It was gonna be worse than trying to convince Trick.

"Stay away from me!" The twenty-seven year old screamed at him when Pete finally got up and followed him through the house and found where he had gone. "Seriously, stay the hell away!" He scrunched back against the kitchen counter. "Go away! I'm not DID! I don't fucking have alters! I've never had them and I'm not gonna start now!"

"I'm not an alter Pete. I'm you. I'm just ten years older. How many times do I have to tell you that-"

"Leave me alone! Go away!" Now Pete had to trail the younger into the living room. It was quite an idiotic game of chase they were playing. "I've actually been doing okay for awhile and would like to stay that way! Whatever you are, leave! You're not part of my plans!"

"This is getting old."

"Go away!"

"What the fuck do you want to know? How do I prove I am you? And where the hell is Patrick? You'd probably believe him-"

"In Chicago! If you're me you should know that but I'll play along before I find a way to make you go away for good even though indulging this shit is never a good idea and I know that and I don't know why I am doing it-"

"Pete. For shit's sake."

"Tell me something really personal about myself that I've never told anyone. Something only I know." The twenty-seven year old snapped.

 

"You look like a drug dealer." Pete heard from the ear piece of the cheap prepaid flip phone he was on that had come from the junk drawer of his old house. He also heard it on his left side too as Patrick was right in front of him and his younger self at L.A.X. He had just come from the arriving fights and he was definitely looking at thirty-seven-year-old Pete and not twenty-seven-year-old Pete.

The younger had to stare for at least eight seconds to confirm that Patrick wasn't, in fact, talking to him. "You can see him?!" He demanded as quietly as he could. He knew he looked like he was a mess. He had called Patrick freaking out, even more, a few hours ago after this stranger that was in his bed this morning that he was more than half sure wasn't real had proved he was the same person he was. A public airport was not the place to be making a scene.

"I can see him," Patrick said calmly. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know..."

"Pete. He's real. I promise. I'm from the same year he is. I'm just in my twenty-three-year-old body."

"Okay. I'm crazy. It's official. I thought I was okay but I'm crazy."

"Pete-" Patrick started.

The twenty-seven-year-old's sidekick's flash went off in Patrick's face and then in Pete's face in quick succession. When he glanced over the two photos he was expecting to just see the airport around him. Not Patrick or his older self.

"Go over there and buy something from the news stand. Go get something. From separate places."

"What?"

"If you're both real and I am not just standing in the middle of L.A.X rambling to myself, they'll sell you something. Because they can see you."

Pete and Patrick split off into different directions after Patrick shoved a five at Pete because he was in Patrick's prior situation now without money or anything because that was how he had been dropped into two thousand and seven. Within two minutes both were back with magazines. The younger quickly did a reality check on the print to make sure what he was reading didn't change five seconds after he read it.

He then finally looked up and appeared somewhat calmer. "...So I'm not crazy..."

"If you would have taken a picture of me on your phone like I told you to back at the house or let me drive out here an hour ago you would have known that sooner," Pete said in a duh tone.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this and liked it, don't expect a speedy update. I have no idea where I am going with this but I promise I am going somewhere with it and that place is gonna be wild.


End file.
